


Kingdoms Under Painted Skies

by Furuba_Fangirl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Biblical Reinterpretation, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minor Violence, Scene: Crucifixion of Jesus 33 AD (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furuba_Fangirl/pseuds/Furuba_Fangirl
Summary: "I will give you all of these things, if you will fall down and worship me." At least, that's one of many dramatic details that Crowley wrote down in the report to Downstairs. In reality, the only thing the demon offered was to share the world with someone who deserved to see it.-“I am here with you, am I not,” he reminds, motioning at the red plains where kangaroos hop near their watering hole.“Because you think it’s God’s plan,” she counters.He smiles at her knowingly. “And because I rather enjoy your company.”Much to her disdain, the demon can’t argue with that logic; she is quite easy to get along with.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Jesus (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65
Collections: Satias Good Omens





	Kingdoms Under Painted Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Tried to get this out for Easter then I deleted it and decided to reupload because I’m still trash X3 FYI I’ve never been to Sunday school a day in my life but Crowley’s relationship with Jesus fascinates me so much I wanted to write my interpretation of it!
> 
> TW: Brief mentions of blood/violence during crucifixion

Fucking _Hell_.

Seriously. Sending her off to the middle of nowhere without so much as an inkling as to what her assignment really entails. Just got a general address dumped into her noggin and was instructed to keep tabs on a “person of interest”. Apparently, a name and description were too far above Crawley’s paygrade.

Which she wouldn’t have minded if they had at least situated her somewhere with proper lodging, _not_ the dinky inn she is currently held up in. The arid desert heat and smell of cattle constantly wafting through the termite-eaten window shutters just adding to her irritation. Needless to say, she had spent the greater part of her time avoiding said room by exploring around the quaint village in the hopes of finding her target. However, it doesn’t take long for Crawley to tire of vainly wandering about as well, so she figures there’s no harm in taking a break from her post.

As the demon walks further from civilization and the air around her begins to cool with the thickening vegetation, the sound of burbling draws her closer to the peace she seeks. Eventually, Crawley reaches the embankment where the flowing river reflects brilliantly like jade under the unforgiving sun. Beneath the shade and protection of a date palm, she unveils her scarlet curls sticking to her nape and loosens the sash from her waist. After she discards her garments safely over a branch, she guides her lithe body into the refreshing water to scrub away the dust and sweat she has accumulated.

Once she’s cleaned off the layer of grime, Crawley mindlessly wades around the Jordan, clearing her mind of the last week’s inconveniences. Although, it starts to become difficult when her focus shifts to the peculiar tingling on her skin. For a moment, the demon thinks she might have accidentally brushed against some nettles but soon the stinging sensation turns to outright _burning_ as if she had been dipped in acid.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Crawley hisses, as she frantically scrabbles for the riverbank. Once she hoists herself out to safety, the demon flops onto her back with an exasperated groan.

_So much for relaxing…_

After she catches her breath, she tilts her head forward and notices half of her bare body is tinged pink like a shrimp thrown into boiling water. Which shouldn’t be possible for a demon to burn that easily… unless there was something holy nearby. Despite feeling pissy and, quite frankly, utterly humiliated to be splayed out like a beached jellyfish, the thought does pique her interest.

Her curiosity is enough for her to lift herself off the ground before simultaneously miracling away any trace of holy-ish water and promptly putting her clothes back in place. Crawley deduces that the culprit of her mishap must be somewhere upstream so she decidedly treks the blessed trail.

The general _goodness_ of the area weighs heavy on the demon’s chest as unintelligible voices grow louder. Crawley ducks behind the thicket, almost expecting to come across an angel or two. However, when she peers across the river, the only thing she finds is a small gathering of humans waiting on the shoreline as two men stand at the center of the water; one praying over the other.

 _“_ A baptism,” Crawley deduces quietly with a huff. “Just my luck.. _._ ” Regardless of her annoyance, the demon has always found human rituals fascinating to observe, carefully pushing away a shrub for a better look.

The Baptist gently submerges the man in his care through the surface tension of the current and at that moment, Crawley’s ears start to ring and the hairs on her arms stand on end. Both sensations are incomparable to the wind being knocked out of her when he reemerges. The demon clutches her stomach as she rasps, “What the _fuck?_ ”

She gawks at the baptized man if she could even call him that because the divine energy radiating off him is wholly inhuman. His aura, golden like an angelic halo, seemingly imperceptible to everyone else’s eyes but her own. Yet… as Crawley takes in his overall appearance there is a certain humility to him; nothing like the pompousness most angels evoke. He also doesn’t hold the unbridled wrath of a Nephilim; his angular facial features softened by a serenity that is so familiar it unnerves the demon…

She had heard rumors… office talk about a miraculous conception almost thirty years ago that caused quite a hullabaloo for the higher-ups on both sides. Personally, Crawley thought it was absolute bollocks but right now she’s certainly reevaluating that doubt.

The man, literally dripping holiness, beams at his baptizer, kissing the back of his hand in gratitude as if he had just been bestowed the greatest gift.

 _Very interesting indeed_...

-

Early the next morning, while the moon lingers in the sky and the blush of dawn peeks over the horizon, Crawley observes the mysterious man exiting the modest domicile of a farmer and his wife that sheltered him for the night. He bids the older couple adieu, kindly declining the small satchel of rations they offer him before thanking them again for their generosity.

As he departs from the village toward the flat plateau of the dryland, the serpent follows suit at a reasonable distance; mostly for the sake of anonymity but partially to avoid any sudden bursts of divinity again. While it is her job to keep track of the odd bloke, she can’t deny that she’s interested in finding out what a fellow like him gets up to in his spare time.

-

Apparently not much.

The holy man had spent the last few days roaming endlessly through the desert, only stopping for small sips from his waterskin and a couple of hours of meditation but never to eat. On the bright side, Crawley’s memos to Hell are going to be a cinch to write this quarter:

_Allotted distance walked by target: Good. Pace could use improvement._

_Update: Target decided to hike up a mountain today. We shall see how he fares with a change of terrain._

_*Note* Did break a sweat but persevered._

At the summit, the traveler finds a boulder to rest upon and despite the exhaustion on his face, he is still in awe at the vastness of the golden valley before his eye. He lowers his head respectfully as he prays, “Thank you, Father, for the strength you have given me during this trial. Thank you for the companionship of not only your spirit but of my wary guardian as well. May you bless them for their kind efforts through this journey. Amen.”

Hidden in her burrow, the serpent tilts her head in confusion. _What is he going on about? There’s no one else here except… Oh, right._ Figures he would be able to sense the only occult being in the vicinity. She pokes her snout out of the small cavern, incredulously flicking her tongue in the air. _Bugger probably doesn’t know he’s dealing with a demon though. Tch, “kind efforts”._ Crawley simply could not let that slide.

She slithers out of her hideaway toward the humble man hissing. “Ssssooo, you think I’m your guardian. That I’m here to _protect_ you?” she asks, winding herself around the rock he is sat upon. “How can you be so ssssure my motivesss are pure?” The serpent inches near the man’s sandaled feet. “How do you know I’m not waiting for my moment to... ssstrike?”

Her yellow, unblinking eyes meet unflinching hazel and a faint, amused smile. 

The man calmly answers, “I do not pretend to know your motivations but,” he shrugs, “I suppose if you wanted to hurt me, you could have done so already.” 

Crawley un-bares her fangs, realizing he makes a good point. She lets out a sibilant titter as she unfurls herself. “Fair enough,” she admits, crawling away to the adjacent boulder and transforming to her normal corporation. “Although, you are wrong about the whole ‘guardian’ bit. Demons aren’t in the business of babysitting,” she asserts getting comfortable on her perch.

“Then what is your business here, if you don’t mind me asking?” he ponders, seemingly skipping over the whole demon part.

“Personal intrigue,” Crawley says flippantly as she scrutinizes the man before her. His dusty robe fraying at the hem, his sunburned skin lined with sweat and his thin, chapped lips on the verge of bleeding. He looks like an outright vagabond if she’s being honest but… there’s still that undeniable light in his eyes… A kindness that makes her discreetly avert her gaze.

“Ah, well, seeing as you’ve gone through the trouble of traveling with me, I am amenable to answering any questions you might have,” he offers, folding his hands on his lap.

Crawley arches an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he is still humoring her. But, fine, she’ll bite. “Alright then.” She crosses her arms, smiling like a lynx. “Firstly, what’s your name, boy?”

He introduces himself.

 _Surprisingly normal but reasonable_. “And who exactly are you?” she presses.

The demon nearly expects lightning and thunder to come from the heavens when he reveals his true identity. However, she is only met with the chirps of crickets and the distant squawks of vultures as he primly says, “I am but a humble carpenter from Galilee.”

Crawley would have openly scoffed at that had it been from someone else but the demon senses the unspoken answer in between those words. The hidden acknowledgment between them that, yes, he is a man but they both know he is so much more… So she simply accepts this with a curt nod, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Okay, Carpenter, tell me this then. Why is someone like you wandering aimlessly around the bloody desert? Shouldn’t you be, I dunno, drinking with friends or finding a spouse or y’ know doing anything that’s remotely fun?” she asks, gesturing vaguely at him. “You should be enjoying your youth instead of baking like a piece of Matzah.”

His lips turn up as he dulcetly chuckles. “If it is God’s will then one day I will get to partake in such experiences but at this moment the Holy Spirit requires me to be here.”

“And for what reason?”

“That I do not know yet,” he acknowledges.

“Well, you better get used to that,” she warns with a huff. “The Almighty has never been keen on giving straightforward answers to anyone.”

The man notices the bitterness in her voice but is compassionate when he asks, “You see that as a bad thing?”

This catches Crawley off guard, not used to being asked for her opinion. “Yeah, I do. We’re expected to play a game but never allowed to know the rules. S’ not very fair is it?”

The carpenter mulls this for a bit before settling on a response. “I understand why you would have this frustration but I believe life would be very uninteresting if we had all the answers to it. It is seeking them out that gives us our purpose even if we do not see the grand scheme of it all. We both started our quest for differing reasons with no clear destination, yet we carried on to find out.” He gives the demon a reassuring smile. “Who knows? Perhaps this conversation is why we are both here. Or maybe, it is not that complicated at all.” He looks out toward the horizon with a wistful expression, the sun low in the titian sky. “Perhaps the Lord just wanted us to have a nice view.”

In one of the few instances of her life, Crawley is left speechless; a warmth filling her chest. She is not a stranger to having disagreements with people and frankly welcomes the challenge. However, someone sympathizing with her point-of-view while respectfully explaining theirs was definitely something she was unaccustomed to but… something she wouldn’t mind getting used to. Although, it would take some time for her to forgo years of cynicism.

The demon crinkles her nose a bit at the landscape. “Hmm, if that’s the case the Almighty should’ve chosen a better spot. There’s a whole lot of world beyond just planes of sand.”

“I imagine so. It is probably beautiful as with all of God’s creations,” he muses, momentarily glancing over at Crawley.

This causes her cheeks to flush which she promptly covers by tugging at her veil. A demon should _not_ blush, especially at silly, implicit compliments from a hu— human-like being.

The holy man continues, “I do have faith I will get to see it all one day. For now, this a wonderful place to start…”

Crawley notes the yearning in his gaze as if he is a child peeking through a keyhole, only capturing a blip of the Earth’s entirety. “Maybe you don’t have to wait?” She lowers her feet to the ground, straightening her posture to indicate her seriousness and he shifts to give her his full attention. “Who’s to say today isn’t that day?”

***

“Oi, Carpenter, you sure you don’t want some,” Crawley offers, the stone in her hand transforming into a bread roll. “You haven’t eaten a bite the whole trip.”

“Thank you, but it is important that I endure in this state,” he asserts. “It allows me greater access to God’s light.”

“You sure it’s not the delirium kicking in,” she retorts, taking a bite with a satisfied hum in the hopes it might tempt into reason. Of course, he doesn’t even bat an eye so she simply shrugs. “You’re no use to me if you pass out for being stubborn so I suggest you eat something.” Crawley sees his tired smile reflecting off the tide pool he’s observing.

“One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” He gingerly caresses his finger along the coral arm of a starfish. “As long as I have that to sustain me, I shall be able to continue this voyage.”

“Suit yourself,” she relents, chucking the remainder into the crashing waves and brushing the crumbs off herself. “More credit to you, I guess. I know an angel with less self-control when it comes to his stomach. I would not want to see the mood he’d be in if he went two weeks without eating.”

This seems to pique the Galilean’s interest as he lifts his head up. “How curious… a friendship between agents of Heaven and Hell. God truly works in mysterious ways.”

Crawley tuts at him. “Don’t read into it. S’ more of a casual acquaintanceship when work puts us in the same area.” At least, she’s sure Aziraphale sees it that way anyway.

His companion considers this. “Do you enjoy each other’s company at least?”

“Nnn, I suppose so. He’s a bit of a stick in the mud but… he is different than other angels.” The demon tucks a briny curl behind her ear. “He’s empathetic even when he probably oughtn’t be,” she says, remembering how he gave away his sword just because _he_ thought it was the right thing to do. Crawley catches herself being sappy and adds, “Ugh, he’s so naively optimistic though. Can’t get him to shut up about ‘ineffability’ or whatnot. You two would probably get along swimmingly.”

He chuckles. “Well, I do hope one day I get the chance to meet him. Anyone who shows my friend kindness will always hold my regard.”

The demon blinks at him. _Is that what we are now… friends?_

Crawley gives him an exaggerated grimace. “Like I said. You two would get along like, uh…” She looks around to complete her metaphor. “A shell to a hermit.” She reconsiders. “Wait, do you think they get along? I mean it is their home but they must get tired of lugging it around at some point, yeah?”

This earns a full belly laugh. “That is a very interesting observation,” he compliments.

***

“You do take wonderful care of your wings,” the carpenter notes in fascination while Crowley methodically grooms them as she does after every flight. The rustling plumage soothing him as they sit atop a mesa together.

“Yeah, well unsurprisingly once they’ve been charred to a crisp, feathers don’t grow back the same so they require extra maintenance to be presentable,” she says, focusing on her task.

“Oh… My apologies.”

Crawley pauses momentarily but doesn’t meet his sympathetic gaze. “Eh, I didn’t get it that bad,” she dismisses, working out a particularly tangled clump. “Some demons lost their wings completely when they fell or were left with mangled ones. Then there were those that just decided to have theirs cut off. I guess they wanted to give up that reminder of their old life...”

“But not you.”

She plucks out a bent feather. “Nope.” The demon waits for him to ask why not but he doesn’t push, leaving the door open for her to elaborate at her own pace. “I didn’t choose to fall. Even before that I didn’t have much say on anything either but keeping my wings… that was the first decision I got to make for myself. I was already reduced to a squirming nothing, I didn’t need to add insult to injury by giving them up.” She tries to keep a nonchalance to her voice but she knows she’s failing miserably; her dejection seeping through wounds she thought were sealed.

“I admire your fortitude, my friend,” he praises genuinely.

The irony amuses her. She snorts, “You shouldn’t. M’ still a demon. It’s my job to spread chaos or at the very least not intervene when humans decide to do it themselves.”

“I don’t mean to deny your work ethic,” he replies humorously. “However, we choose who we want to be regardless of our namesake. You might have fallen but you did not allow that to define your character.”

She rolls her eyes as she stops her preening. “Yeah, sure I didn’t. What about you then, eh?” she asks mockingly. “Do you think you have much of a choice on who you get to be?”

“I am here with you, am I not,” he reminds, motioning at the red plains where kangaroos hop near their watering hole.

“Because you think it’s God’s plan,” she counters.

He smiles at her knowingly. “And because I rather enjoy your company.”

Much to her disdain, the demon can’t argue with that logic; she is quite easy to get along with.

***

“Are you sure you do not wish to join me, my friend? The water is wonderful,” the man beckons, combing through his mucky hair.

“M’ good. Plus, I really don’t feel like being turned to demon stew again,” she retorts, sitting at the edge of the lake which has a brilliant view. The jagged peaks reflecting off the crystalline water as the early morning sun rises behind the mist, waking bleating rams and hooting howler monkeys.

“I thought that was you at the river. Do forgive me if I hurt you then, my revelation caught me off guard as well.”

“Don’t sweat it,” she assures with a dismissive wave.

He splashes around briefly before he speaks again. “You know, you have been watching over me for quite some time now and I still do not know your name.”

She hums as if she just realized the same thing too. Truthfully, she can’t remember the last time she properly introduced herself to a human. “Well, I figured I wouldn’t want you to get too attached to me,” she jokes sarcastically.

He playfully giggles, “I believe we are already passed that point.”

Crawley chokes a little on her spit as she tries to stammer out a response.

“If you do not wish to share it for any reason than I shall no longer push,” he says understandingly.

She stares at him still a little flustered as he quietly continues to bathe; his figure much gaunter than when they first met. “It’s not me… My name, I mean. It’s not me,” she divulges, a little self-consciously. “It can be filed under 'things I didn’t get to choose'. It’s just what everyone in Hell started calling me and, unfortunately, demons have awful imaginations.”

“I see… So if you could change it, what would you want it to be?” he asks curiously.

She pauses for a moment. “I don’t know, never really let myself consider the possibility.” She has no position in Hell to be demanding a name change, so she deals with it the best she can by changing the things she can control: her clothes, her hairstyle, even her gender.

“Well, if you ever do decide to, I would be honored to know. In the meantime, I will continue to conform with calling you my friend.”

She bows her head as she buries her toes in the damp gravel, hiding a faint smile. “Yeah, I guess that’ll have to do.”

***

“So, it was an angel that showed up and told your mum she had a bun in the oven?” Crawley asks, stoking her Hellfire to protect from the frosty air.

“Yes, the Archangel Gabriel,” he clarifies.

“Right, figures he’d have to do the Almighty’s dirty work. Probably made her sign off on all the documents to make sure she got the message loud and clear.”

He titters, “To my knowledge, he did nothing of the sort.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past the proud bastard,” she huffs.

As their comfortable silence returns, the demon notices how the glow of the flames casts a shadow on the cavern wall behind his head. The shape, eerily similar to a crown, reminding her again of who exactly has been in her company. She opens her mouth to say something but instead turns her attention outside to the snowy dips and peaks of the Himalayas. Unfortunately, her companion has had enough time to learn her cues… a fact that she hates.

“Is something the matter?”

“Er, not really,” she tries.

“My friend, you know I am always here listen to your questions,” he encourages

Crawley’s breath hitches a little before she clears her throat. “When you, y’ know pray that is… what’s it like when the Almighty _does_ care to answer you?”

He pensively scratches his overgrown beard finding a way to explain it. “It is a conversation but not with traditional words. It is more of a sensation of knowing and comfort. Something that could be easily missed in a blink of an eye but when I manage to capture it I understand the meaning as clear as any voice.”

“Hmm, Hell has a similar method of delivery although probably not as pleasant,” she says. “Anyway, I was just curious…”

He notes her solemn tone and sensitively remarks, “You are saddened that your prayers still go unanswered…”

 _That_ hits a nerve.

The demon furrows her eyebrows at him. “They aren’t answered because I gave up praying a long time ago, Carpenter. Around the time I begged to be taken back and the only thing on the other end was white noise.”

His calm demeanor isn’t shaken by her harsh tone. “Silence does not mean indifference. The Lord shows love in many ways even if we’re never directly aware of how.”

Anger boils in the demon causing the bonfire and the smell of brimstone to flare. “Love?” she barks. “Letting your creations run around like headless chickens? Punishing them for asking questions? That’s how you show love?” Crawley jeers, “Well, sorry if I missed the fucking memo!” She stands up, storming off in the direction of the whistling entrance.

Along with the icy wind that whips her veil back, she hears the steady echo of footsteps coming up from behind.

“I apologize for upsetting you, my friend. It was not my intention. I cannot even imagine the pain that has made you doubt your faith.”

“No, you can’t,” she snaps, sharply turning to face him. “You can’t even begin to fathom it because right now you are the golden child. All bright-eyed and shiny but just give it some time. When you’ve finished playing your role in the ‘Great Ineffable Plan’ and the Almighty has no use for you anymore, you’ll realize you’re just as expendable as the rest of us!” Crawley glares at his unwavering expression and then over the rocky precipice. “Or how about you jump right now and see if God actually cares enough about you to intervene? Do you think angels will come in a flurry of white feathers and celestial hymns to save you?” She steps toward him menacingly with a scowl. “If you have so much faith, why don’t you find out?”

Despite her threatening posture, the carpenter doesn’t back away from the fuming demon. “'You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test',” he rebuts evenly.

“All the Almighty does is fucking test us! Probably has a good laugh while doing it too so why not pay the same favor?” Crawley throws her hands in the air as she growls in frustration, the sound rippling throughout the mountains. “For a Messiah, you sure are _thick_!”

She knows she’s being unfair; lashing out at him because it’s the closest she’ll ever get to confronting God... She also knows she’s playing a dangerous game. His patience for the demon could finally run out and he could easily smite her on the spot if he wanted too.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he steps closer with the care of someone ready to tame a wild mare, unafraid of getting kicked in the chest. “My friend… can you close your eyes?”

“What,” she seethes, a mixture of indignation and bemusement.

“Please,” he insists calmly.

She huffs angrily through her nose, fog puffing out like a dragon but she yields. “Fine, whatever.” The demon squeezes her reptilian eyes shut. “Just remember if you push me off, I’m the one with wings—“

Her voice falters as hands gently grasp her fists clenched at her sides. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing,” she sputters, pulling her hands away.

“Apologies, I should have asked beforehand… May I?”

Crawley grumbles, “Just get on with it already!” There’s a pause before their hands are connected again.

“Take deep breaths with me,” he instructs.

“Unnecessary but sure.” She begrudgingly complies, their breathing slowly beginning to synchronize.

“Tell me what you feel.”

“Just your calloused meat paws and the snow biting my toes,” she says snippily.

“That is a good start,” he laughs softly. “What else? You do not have to tell me this time just continue being mindful of your surroundings.”

She feels ridiculous for indulging this stupid charade yet… something inside her finally shifts. That familiar warmth in her chest returning and now diffusing to her limbs and even to the tip of her nose. A staggered breath involuntarily escapes her lips but she plays it off as a cough. Soon, it becomes harder to remain tethered to reality as she succumbs to the trance-like state that she is being put under. Suddenly… it’s as if she’s transported back to the endless vacuum of space; the weightlessness reminding the demon of when she could color the skies with strokes of her hands. As nostalgia washes over her, the warmness is no longer internal but floating around her as well… An all-encompassing light that she can see despite her eyes being shut but it does not burn like divinity. It is like basking in the sun or drinking too many cups of wine but more akin to the shelter of a white wing under pattering rain and the company of a traveler gazing at constellations with her every night... It is the smile that welcomed the former angel into this wonderfully confusing universe; …a distant memory she so desperately clings to.

Then it flitters away like an ember and she is abruptly flung back to her chilly present.

Crawley’s eyes flutter open, her eyelashes clumped together and her wetted cheeks now uncomfortably cool. In front of her, the carpenter still holds her hands, his own eyes still peacefully closed as ivory flakes continue to pepper his umber hair. She lets go of him to frantically wipe her face before he can notice. “What…” she starts. “What the hell was that?” The question is meant to sound outraged but it comes out rather breathless instead.

He finally opens his eyes with a content smile. “A reminder, my friend,” he explains. “God’s grace is never gone, it is simply fluid; moving through every nook and cranny of creation. In the air we breathe, in the sights we see... in the people we meet.” He places his hand on his chest. “Right now it resides within me the strongest but even that is finite. Eventually when my time on Earth is over it will continue to live on in the people that placed their trust in me.” He then presses his splayed hand over Crawley’s sternum where her corporation’s jumpy heart rests. “It will live in you… even when you don’t feel it, even when you doubt its presence but it will be there when you need it most.” He withdraws his palm as he concludes, “You have no obligation to believe me, my friend… but I believe in you and therefore so does the Lord.”

She gulps back the emotions threatening to resurface again. How… How can he say that to a _demon_ of all things? How can he say that with so much sincerity in his eyes? “You… you’re a fool,” she sighs dismally as she covers herself with her veil again. “A noble one but a fool nonetheless…” With that she settles their dispute, making her way back inside. “Better not linger, Carpenter, unless you want to get frostbite.”

***

“Our time together is nearing its end, my friend,” the carpenter announces after he comes back from his daily meditation.

“Is that so,” she asks emptily, knowing the answer already.

He nods. “I am needed back in my homeland.”

The demon feels a somberness ache within as he says this. She stares up at the trees, observing a murder roosting in the branches, its members cawing a discordant melody. “There’s still so much out there y ’know… Civilizations to explore, food to taste, people to dance with. You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

He takes a seat next to her in the dewy grass. “Yes, I am aware but I am already grateful for all the kingdoms I have had the opportunity to see. I am especially grateful that you showed me them.”

Crawley fiddles with a loose thread on her sleeve as she shrugs. “You don’t need to thank me. I only took pity on your lack of travel prospects.” She continues to ignore him as she watches a couple of grackles pecking at a young crow that strayed too close to their nest. One of them eventually knocks the fledgling off causing it to flail downward with desperate chirps. The demon glowers at the smug pair before snapping her fingers and turning them to stone.

She expects to get scolded for this but the Galilean’s attention is on the injured bird. He tenderly scoops it up in his palms to assess the damage: one of its wings broken from the fall. Crawley observes in interest as he cradles the youngling closer to his lips, quietly whispering something to it. Although, the demon nearly has a heart attack when he opens his hands and tosses it in air. Fortunately, instead of plopping back to the floor, it flutters its ebony wings and flies back to the safety of its own nest.

The demon gapes at her companion before shaking her head at him. “I will never understand you, Carpenter. You have the power to do so much. You could do anything you want wherever you want. You can make your own choices… You don’t have to go back because the Big Voice in the sky tells you to.”

“I have to disagree with you, my friend… This _is_ my choice. The Lord is not forcing me to do anything. I could continue traveling the world seeking all the promises you mentioned but I know I will never be at peace with my decision. In my heart, I would always know my destiny lies elsewhere and that is back in Galilee…”

The demon pities his selflessness but knows there’s nothing she could say to convince him otherwise. “If you say so…” She snaps her fingers again which reanimates the stunned grackles and she smirks as they flap away in terror. “Before we leave though, mind if we make one final stop?” she requests.

-

As they lie on their backs against the hillside, the pair watch the swirling ribbons of emerald and violet streaking the starry night. Even a pack of wolves, formerly serenading the silvery moon in the distance, has stopped to enjoy nature’s light show.

Crawley inhales deeply, the scent of pine filling her nostrils as she rests her hands on her stomach. She turns her head toward her companion, the colors dancing in the reflection of his eyes. “Are you really sure you want to give this up?”

“I am not giving up anything, my friend.” He glances over to her with a hopeful smile. “It will always be with me...”

***

”I can drop you off closer to town if you’d like,” she suggests after they land on the peak where their journey began.

“That is very kind of you but I have a few details to sort out alone,” he says pointing at the sky.

“Got it.” Crawley rocks back in forth on her heels unsure of what exactly to say. “Welp... I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now it is,” he reassures with a smile.

The demon extends her hand out toward him for a shake. “Goodbye then, Carpenter, and good luck with the whole destiny thing.”

He takes her hand, bowing his head to press his lips to her knuckles. “Goodbye, my friend...”

She swallows thickly, stunned at the sight: the Son of God dignifying a demon with a kiss. “...Crowley.” He tilts his head up to meet her blushing face. “That’s my name.”

He proudly grins at her. “It suits you.” He properly shakes her hand this time. “May our paths cross again someday, Crowley...”

It is the demon that lets go first, giving a final wave before she turns to leave. All the while she tries not to look over her shoulder as she walks down the mountainside toward the Judean desert.

***

… _wley!_

Crowley awakens with a start, momentarily unsure of her surroundings. “Je—” As she frantically looks around, the demon remembers that she is in fact alone. She leans back against the twisted trunk with a drawl, rubbing the grogginess from her eyes; the leaves of the olive tree swaying in the night breeze. Yet, there’s an unnatural sound layered underneath the swishing, more specifically… a voice.

CRAWLEY, DARLING

_Oh no…_

GLAD TO SEE YOU’VE BEEN CATCHING UP WITH THE SIN OF SLOTH BUT I HAVE A MATTER TO DISCUSS WITH YOU.

“Hello, Lord, to what do I owe the pleasure (or rather displeasure) of your visit?”

I CAME TO PERSONALLY COMMEMORATE YOU FOR GOING BEYOND THE CALL OF DUTY. TEMPTING THE CHRIST FOR FORTY DAYS. NOW THAT IS DEDICATION

“Ah, that…” Remembering the slightly embellished report she had sent out a few days ago. “Well, I figured I wouldn’t lose anything trying but he is a stubborn one that one. Didn’t even budge once,” she says, partly in his defense.

NO MATTER, DARLING, YOU DID AN EXCELLENT JOB. YOU HAVE PLANTED THE SEED OF DOUBT THAT WILL AID US IN THE FUTURE AND BY THE END HE WILL BEG FOR OUR HELP.

_The end?_

“If… If I may ask, my lord, what exactly are you planning on doing to him? I would certainly like to have insight into your craftsmanship.”

MY PLAN IS SIMPLY TO WAIT. HEAVEN IS THE ONE WHO WILL SERVE HIM UP FOR US ON A SILVER PLATTER. THEY ARE THE ONES WHO WILL MAKE HIM EXCHANGE HIS LIFE FOR THE SALVATION OF ALL OF HUMANITY AND WE BOTH KNOW THEY WILL PUT HIM THROUGH THE WRINGER TO ENSURE THAT HE DOES SO. YOU SHALL SEE THAT WHEN HE IS AT HIS WEAKEST AND WHEN THEY HAVE BROKEN HIM COMPLETELY HE WILL TURN TO US AS HIS SAVIORS

Crowley’s heart sinks. _He… can’t be expected to take on that burden. They can’t really sacrifice the Son of God…_

But much to her disgust she knows that they very well can… and will.

Through her constricted throat she manages to say, “That… That’s a brilliant idea, Lord.”

YOUR FLATTERY IS NOTED AND, FOR YOUR EFFORTS, I DO BELIEVE YOU HAVE EARNED A HOLIDAY… I HAVE HEARD JERUSALEM IS _WONDERFUL_.

It may seem like a courteous suggestion but the demon recognizes the hidden demand. “Thank you, Lord, I’ll be sure to get on that.”

GOOD. ENJOY YOUR TIME OFF, CRAWLEY…

Before her master’s call dissipates, the demon blurts, “ _Crowley_!”

WHAT WAS THAT, DARLING?

She gulps a little, realizing that came out more desperate than intended. “Crowley, my liege,” she says coolly. “That’s what I’d like to go by now.”

I SEE… There’s a pause that makes Crowley shiver a bit. VERY WELL. I SHALL SEE THAT DAGON GETS THE PAPERWORK IN ORDER… With that the wind blows the chilling voice away, leaving the demon alone with her racing thoughts.

Crowley tilts her head up to the stars shrouded by rolling clouds tonight and closes her eyes as she takes a deep breath. “I know you’re up there,” she starts. “I also know I haven’t talked to you in a few millennia but hear me out… Whatever you have planned for him… don’t do it.” She clenches the fabric of her skirt. “I’ll eat my words. I’ll be glad to be proven wrong just, _please…_ please don’t make him another pawn in your ridiculous game. He is one of your best creations and you can’t—” A broken sob escapes her. “You can’t _betray_ the unconditional love he has for you, dammit! He’s your son you can’t just throw him away!” Teardrops roll down her cheeks as she searches for that connection again… Desperately, attempting to reach that place he helped her find again but it’s all in vain. Nobody is picking up.

She angrily dries off her face with her sleeve and sniffs, “Fine… Fuck you too.”

Crowley gets up on unsteady legs, dusting herself off before she walks into the darkness to find her new destination.

***

As the years passed, Crowley continued to hear his name on the lips of others. Not just from her side but from the humans as well… The stories of his miracles always finding their way to her like whispers from a ghostly apparition.

Except it isn’t a ghost that is haunting the demon anymore… Instead, it is battered flesh forced to carry its own cross outside the walls of the city. It is fresh blood staining the sandy streets; the very streets that had palms laid out as a welcome only days earlier... It is her friend suffering cruelty that no being in existence should ever endure... 

Save for the ones responsible, Crowley thinks bitterly.

In the barren outskirts, the demon stays behind the crowd of both condemners and supporters. Despite the distance, Crowley wonders if he can tell that she’s here. It’s doubtful considering the amount of pain he must be in but she can’t help dreading the idea that he thinks she’s here to gloat… to tell him “I told you so”. An even darker thought creeps into her mind that maybe Satan wanted her to be here for precisely that reason. He wanted a familiar face to chisel away at the carpenter’s reserve until he did falter.

Even if there was a part of her that did want him to ask for her help, she really hopes he doesn’t notice her. That is one soul she will purposely “fail” to secure for Hell and if that reflects poorly on her then so be it…

As the desert breeze shifts, she catches the familiar whiff of cloves, flower nectar and morning dew underlying the lingering metallic scent. She then comes to realize that she is not the only one with an interested party in this matter. Even before she sees the stark white figure, she knows who the source is and she is not particularly thrilled to see him in this circumstance.

The demon weaves her way through a few onlookers until she is sidled up next to the fidgety angel. “Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?”

Aziraphale raises his eyebrows when he notices her presence. “Smirk? Me?” he asks, a little indignantly.

“Well, your lot put him on there,” she reminds, the accusatory tone making the angel shift uncomfortably.

He wrings his hands nervously like he always does when he knows something is deeply wrong with a situation. “I’m not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley…”

She blankly stares ahead at the abused body being mercilessly pinned to the beams of wood. _Is that what torture is then? A policy decision, you daft angel?_ Although she wants to call him out on his naivety, she decides this is not an appropriate moment to start a heated argument so she simply remarks, “I’ve changed it.”

“Changed what?”

“My name. ‘Crawley’ just wasn’t’ doing it for me. It’s a bit too… squirming-at-your-feetish.”

“Well, you were a snake,” he points out frankly and she rolls her eyes at him. “So, what is it now? Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?”

“Crowley,” she reveals with a heavy heart; the reason she changed it writhing in agony before her eyes.

Aziraphale gives a hum of approval before cringing at another wail. “Did you, uh, ever meet him?”

“Yes… Seemed a very bright young man.” _Too bright for his own good._ “I showed him all the kingdoms of the world.”

The angel quirks an eyebrow at her. “Why?”

 _Because I was selfish… Because I wanted to hold onto that light for as long as I could…_ “He’s a carpenter from Galilee, his travel opportunities are limited,” she says casually. The demon flinches at his cries of despair as the nail is driven further into his wrist. “That has got to hurt…” She looks around at the mixture of apathetic and concerned faces. “What was it he said that got everyone so upset?”

Aziraphale swallows. “‘Be kind to each other.’”

Crowley frowns. “Oh, yeah, that’ll do it…” she murmurs, unsurprised by human fickleness. But even if the demon is painfully aware of their aversion to change… her friend still has hope for them. Even after they have hoisted him up, displaying him like a prized hunting trophy he begs for them to be forgiven. He could ask to be spared but she knew he never would, much to her lots disappointment, for the frustratingly simple reason that he is fair and kind and _good_. All things neither the world nor Heaven nor Hell deserve for what they put him through but he is still willing to give… even with his dying breath.

Which happens as the golden aura around him, dimming with every grueling wheeze, finally flickers out. The last sliver of light before darkness cloaks the sky.

By the end, Crowley feels hollowed out as if part of her also faded away into nothingness. _It is finished indeed…_

The demon and angel silently watch on in solidarity as the soldiers bring his limp body down, delivering it to his mother. Her grieving eyes, Crowley notes, hauntingly similar to her son’s.

While everyone else starts to leave, Crowley numbly turns to Aziraphale who has his hands clasped together as he says a prayer for him. Personally, she thinks it’s too late for that but she can’t knock him for the sentiment. Once he finishes, his somber expression meets her own, neither knowing what to say at this point or if there is anything to say, really...

Crowley ultimately breaks the silence as she sighs, “Well, seems there’s no point in sticking around here anymore.”

Aziraphale nods solemnly. “I suppose not... We should probably—“

He is cut off by a low rumbling underneath their feet. They stare at each other in confusion before the earth begins to shake and a crack can be heard coming from beyond the walls. As the sound wave reaches them, Crowley keels over on all fours and Aziraphale clutches his head as if he has been wracked with a terrible migraine. Although, it isn’t necessarily pain they’re experiencing... At least for Crowley, it is the same surge of energy she felt at the river except tenfold causing her whole head to rattle and tears to spring involuntarily. Then she feels it again… the warmth returning like a soft embrace… A final goodbye before it moves on like she had once been promised.

After the quaking ground begins to still, Aziraphale and Crowley are left gasping for air as they look toward the city and see a plume of dust and crumbled stone where the temple once stood.

“Will you look at that,” Aziraphale pants, adjusting his turban. “To be fair he did warn them…” He turns his attention to Crowley who is still prostrated on the ground, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “Craw— Crowley? Crowley, what’s wrong?” He worriedly kneels down next to the seemingly distraught demon. “I know this all overwhelming but…” His voice trails as he realizes that her haggard breathing isn’t sobbing but… laughter, low and somewhat maniacal.

Crowley lifts her head slightly to look at the carnage, a wild grin on her face. “Okay, okay! You’ve made your point,” she says between breathless wheezes. “Talk about a dramatic exit!”

The angel can only stare dumbly at her until she finally manages to get her giggling under control. As she dabs the corners of her eyes, he asks cautiously, “Crowley, are you alright?”

She takes in a shaky breath, a tuckered smile on her lips as she sits back on her haunches. “To be honest, angel… I have no fucking clue,” she answers honestly, her line of vision still dully glued to the city. Her daze is broken when a soothing hand squeezes her shoulder... A kind gesture that fuels the balminess deep inside of her; the one she feared she would never have access to again.

Crowley looks over to Aziraphale giving her a soft expression that reads, “It’s okay if you’re not…” yet she is thankful he doesn’t verbalize it. The angel stands, offering a hand to help the demon get back on her feet which, to his surprise, she accepts. “Come on, dear. Let’s see if we can get a drink in all this raucous,” he suggests kindly “…Maybe you can tell me about your travels?”

She tiredly accepts with a nod. “I’d like that, angel…”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are my currency :3


End file.
